


Hero's Voice

by midnight_marimba



Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Gen, Gender Identity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 05:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18653860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnight_marimba/pseuds/midnight_marimba
Summary: El hasn’t been happy with the sound of his own voice in years.  Accepting his duty as the Luminary is easy in comparison to finding a way to properly express himself.





	Hero's Voice

**Author's Note:**

> Major spoilers for the entire game. Seriously.

El’s childhood is a happy one. He knows this because he hears the stories about the children kidnapped by witches, the children raised by bitter stepmothers, the children in far-off kingdoms whose families were killed by monsters. The mayor talks about the children who live in the poor part of Heliodor with no parents, and how proud he is of their own village for not letting that happen to any child here. El himself has a loving mother, a warm bed, three full meals a day, a best friend.

Really, he has no serious complaints. The worst things that happen to him are the little fights with Gemma, which his mother tells him are part of growing up. The day he borrows her headscarf to try it on, and she fights him to get it back, and it ends up in a tree. The day after the dance, when he’d seen older girls drawing on their faces with something to add a bit of color, so he tries drawing charcoal eyebrows on Gemma’s dog Sandy, and Gemma hits him. The day she tells him only boys can be knights, and only girls can be rescued, and she abandons him to be eaten by the imaginary dragon.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” says his mother. “Big boys don’t cry, now, do they?”

“El, Gemma does have a point,” says Grandpa Chalky. “There’s going to come a day when it will be your job to fight to protect those weaker than you. I can already tell by how you’re growing and how lively you are, you’re going to grow up big and strong, and you will want to protect ladies like Gemma. So, make sure you practice with your sword.” So, dutifully, El practices, and practices.

It would be more fun if Gemma would do it too. He wraps a blanket around his waist like a skirt one day while he practices, thinking she might give it a try if he shows her how she can still dress like a pretty girl while she does it. Maybe he can show her how it’s a little like dancing. Gemma just laughs at him and tells him he looks ridiculous. The exchange attracts his mother’s attention from inside the house; she comes out and laughs too, then scolds him for getting the blanket dirty with his nonsense and takes it back inside. He feels disappointed.

“My little soldier,” says his mother, often, with obvious affection. “What a good lad. What a fine, strong boy.”

Adolescence is harder. Grandpa Chalky is gone by this point, so he doesn’t have male family to offer reassurance. His voice begins to crack, and then starts to come out low and loud. Gemma laughs at him. He hates it. This isn’t right. He imagines in a couple of years he will turn into a big, hairy, burly man, like their neighbor Tom. Does Tom wear the mask because he hates the way he looks? But he goes without a shirt, so obviously he likes the way his muscles turned out. El hates that idea too. He doesn’t want to become a giant. He envies Gemma, who is only getting prettier, more elegant.

He almost stops talking. It feels better than letting that stranger’s ugly voice come out of his mouth. When he does have to say something to someone, he quietly mumbles or whispers. Gemma eventually apologizes for laughing at him, but it’s too late. It’s a habit, now. She gets used to it. Helps him out by putting words in his mouth, sometimes. He doesn’t mind. People should be looking at her instead of him, anyway.

The only vanity the village seems to approve of is his hair. He lets it grow out a little. He lets it hide his face in profile.

The coming of age ritual approaches. “You’ll be a man, this time tomorrow,” says his mother. “My little soldier!”

“Take care of your pretty young friend while you’re up there,” says more than one villager as they approach the Tor. Gemma giggles like bells chiming. El just nods. That is his role, after all. He and Gemma are the only two of an age in the village, which might as well be the whole world. She is the pretty one, and he is the protector.

A real monster attacks. His hand glows, and magic comes out of nowhere to rescue Gemma. When Gemma tells his mother about it, his mother gives him a beautiful necklace. El is dumbfounded for a moment. Is it for him to wear?

But no, it’s just an heirloom to help prove he’s the Luminary. He has a destiny. He’s special. Grandpa Chalky knew. He has to go to Heliodor, by himself. A little bit of a dangerous journey. Is this why Grandpa insisted he learn how to use a sword, after all? Not just because he was destined to become a huge bear of a man with a body suited for soldiering. He feels a touch of optimism as he takes to the road.

Even though he’s curious to meet others his own age in the big city, he has a mission. He goes straight to the castle.

It all goes wrong. Everyone calls him Darkspawn. He tries to deny it, but he can’t begin to speak up over the people shouting accusations. He’s thrown in prison. He feels like maybe he’s some kind of monster after all.

Then he meets Erik.

Erik helps him. Erik rescues him. Erik fights by his side as an equal. Erik always encourages him. Erik is graceful and strong and a little bit elegant and a little bit beautiful.

El learns that he’s failed to protect Cobblestone, and Gemma, and his mother. He feels like a monster again, but Erik doesn’t let him dwell on it. Erik gets him moving again. Doing something helps, a little. He bottles up his grief and makes a resolution to try a hundred times harder to protect those in need.

Then he meets Veronica.

Veronica heavily triggers his sense of duty, at first. A little girl in need of assistance. Obviously someone he is duty-bound to protect. But she isn’t a little girl, after all. She’s just shaped like one. In fact, she is a powerful mage. Veronica wants to rescue her sister. Veronica fights by his side as an equal.

Then he meets Serena.

Serena acts like someone he should protect. A pretty woman, mild-mannered, voice like a flute. But she and her sister swear to protect him. Her healing magic keeps saving his life.

Then he meets Sylvando.

Everything changes again.

Not really everything. He’s still on a quest. He was already getting used to a team of companions he could trust, people who he could rely on, people whose skills complement his own. The addition of one more person doesn’t really seem to affect how much they can accomplish together.

But he’s never even imagined someone like Sylvando could exist. A man who is protective and strong, but also nurturing and kind. A man who is extraordinarily graceful, elegant. Beautiful. A man who announces his own beauty and openly invites others to marvel at it.

Sylvando is kind to him. Sylvando compliments El’s hair, and his clothes, and calls him adorable. This is the most praise anyone has ever given El for his appearance, and he’s afraid to show how much it affects him.

For the first time, he wishes he’d had someone else in his family when he was younger. With an older brother or a father like Sylvando, maybe he would have found a middle ground, where he could make subtle additions to his appearance to counterbalance the slow, awkward slide into manhood. Where he might not hate the sound of his own voice.

El begins to experiment with the magical “fun-size forge” he’s been hauling around since a friendly stranger gifted it to him. It’s one part scientifically following recipes, one part magic, one part working with his hands, and one part imagination. The substance, the basic shape and the magical properties follow a fixed pattern, but he discovers the outer layer, the decoration, doesn’t make a difference to how effective the resulting armor or clothing is.

He tries a little subtle embellishment on a new knife first. He doesn’t admit that it wasn’t required by the recipe. Erik notices the beauty of it and praises the recipe. El lets himself smile, just a little. From then on, he adds some feature he hopes the others will find beautiful into every item he makes. He imagines adding flowers or ruffles to his own clothing or armor, but in the end, he doesn’t quite dare.

He meets Rab and Jade. There’s new family for him, after all.

He doesn’t think Rab would have helped him the way he imagines Sylvando would have helped, and Rab certainly can’t just plop into his life now and immediately fill the hole in his heart that Grandpa Chalky left, or his mother or Gemma for that matter. But, tentatively, he thinks it could be nice to have some kind of family again.

Jade sparks his imagination in other ways. She expresses her old hope that she would have been like a big sister to him, and he pictures how that might have been. He watches her fight, and he thinks: she would have practiced swords with me. She would always rescue me if I asked. Maybe when they were kids and too young to know better, she would have bossily dressed him up in her old clothes, and he would have had the chance to just see what it looked like.

At last, they come to the World Tree. And there they fail, and they fall, and everything changes beyond recognition this time.

El wakes up as a fish. This is bewildering at first, but as he gets his bearings, the merpeople keep telling him he is quite beautiful. He has no voice, but apparently everything he wants to say is clearly broadcast by his posture and the movement of his fins. Somehow, for the first time since his voice broke, he begins to feel like he belongs in his body.

Besides, he’s failed completely as El the boy. As El the Luminary. As El the soldier. Why not leave it all behind and embrace this new identity?

But the mermaid queen tells him this cannot be his destiny. This place isn’t safe for him or anyone, and besides which, it is his duty to pick himself up and try again. He owes it to the world to be the boy, the Luminary, the soldier.

So he resigns himself to what must be, and falls back into his body. He takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and moves on. Sees firsthand the gloom covering the world thanks to his failure. He’s never felt less like speaking.

Then he finds his mother, and Gemma, and all the villagers he grew up with. His home is changed, and in danger, but it exists. He’s overwhelmed with joy and relief. He can’t manage to speak above a whisper. His mother and Gemma accept this without comment, and their unconditional affection makes him determined all over again to protect them.

He meets Hendrick.

It’s not really the first time he’s met Hendrick. Hendrick has been making him feel like a monster each time they’ve encountered each other. Even though they are now allies, Hendrick’s mouth twists every time he looks at El, and El bottles up the sting of it. His feelings aren’t important. He can’t dwell on his failures and still do what needs doing.

It isn’t until Hendrick offers him a heavy, heartfelt apology that El suddenly realizes the expression of disgust hasn’t been directed at El at all. It was Hendrick’s own feelings of guilt showing through. Disgust for himself and at having been duped by an imposter, not disgust for El.

It takes a while for this revelation to sink in, but over time it feels like a weight comes off his shoulders. Maybe he’s not a monster.

Sometimes El thinks Hendrick is what El was supposed to become, himself, before he set out on this impossible quest. A big, strong knight, who can save an entire village almost single-handedly. Dressed simply, pragmatically. Stoic. Easily revealing righteous anger and sternly commanding others to obey his instructions.

El tries to resign himself into becoming a Hendrick. He psychs himself up during a battle until he manages to let out a yell with one of his attacks. It’s the loudest noise he’s made in years. He feels awful, afterwards. That wasn’t him at all.

Maybe Hendrick is there so he doesn’t have to become that, after all? He feels like a coward for thinking it, but he can’t stop himself. Hendrick has sworn to protect him, and he’s clearly better suited to do so than the other way around.

After only a little time on the road, they hear a rumor about men in fantastic costumes patrolling the wilderness, and his heart leaps with a painful hope. Could it be Sylvando? He drags Hendrick out to see.

And it is. One of El’s companions, his friends, his chosen family, alive, returned to him. Sylvando’s face lights up with open joy as he stares at El, wide-eyed with delight, and El doesn’t feel like hiding at all.

Sylvando is dressed up in an incredible costume, with feathers and fans. He looks more elegant than ever.

He’s surrounded by young men, many of whom are around El’s age or at least around El’s build. They have all been doing heroic things, fighting monsters and protecting people, but their voices tend to be soft and their manner borders on feminine. Every one of them is dressed up. They all embrace and reflect the joyful, playful, affectionate attitude that Sylvando radiates.

And then Sylvando invites El to join the parade.

For the first time in his life, El is encouraged to wear something beautiful, only because it is beautiful, and because it may make other people happy to see him wearing something beautiful.

Inside of him, the cork pops out of the bottle where, for years, he has been stuffing away all his little wishes about being something different than he is. He feels a rush of joy as he moves to the front of the parade and begins dancing. He is a fish again: he is beautiful, and all his thoughts and feelings are flowing through his body to move freely out into the world.

The day ends too soon, but Sylvando lets him keep the costume for later. He wears it again for solidarity in Puerto Valor. Let Sylvando’s father see that even the Luminary appreciates Sylvando’s sense of style, in case that is meaningful. He likes to think it helped a little, as Don Rodrigo does not, in the end, reject the feathers on the costume Sylvando makes him wear.

He builds up another layer of warm reassurance later on, when they briefly return one day to see the rugged, older man, widely respected by Hendrick and others as a man’s man and a paragon of knighthood, dressed up to freely, publicly perform a dance together with Sylvando’s old cohort.

As they travel across the world again, solving problem after problem, they gather up the rest of their old companions, one by one.

When they meet his father’s ghost, of course El is happy to be able to help him and happy to get to meet him. He is also struck by his father’s appearance. His father was a slender man, hardly bigger than El is now, himself. Maybe El isn’t going to grow into a hulking monster of a man.

During their travels, he misses Erik the most of his absent companions. His first friend outside of Cobblestone. He thinks about Erik’s confidence, that slightly brash cockiness. His unfaltering support. His nimble grace. His melodic accent. His striking blue hair and eyes, and the tunic that reveals a little sliver of his chest. He thinks about the parade boys, and the glimpse he caught of two of them holding hands. He wonders if Erik would like El’s own parade costume.

Then his heart breaks when they find Erik, and Erik is broken. Erik doesn’t remember any of them. Erik doesn’t remember El. Erik doesn’t even remember himself. He is fearful and cringes away from them and it’s horribly wrong.

When Erik regains his memories and begins acting like his old self, it is one of the top three best moments of El’s life. He’s too shy to tell Erik so, after all the things El’s been thinking about him, but that night when Sylvando wakes up to find El half-pacing, half-dancing around the perimeter of the camp while the others are sleeping, the older man raises his eyebrows, smiles knowingly, and whispers a suggestion to El. El nods. 

They get out their feathers, and El casts a spell to zoom off to Octagonia with the entertainer. It’s a city that never sleeps. They dance through town together and make a lap through the casino, earning cheers and whistles from late-night onlookers. The musicians there invite them onstage, and El dances out his joy for the world to see.

When they sneak back into the camp, El is able to fall asleep, tired and happy.

Veronica’s fate almost breaks him again. But Serena’s determination to carry on will hardly let him do less. He’s failed so many times, but with the help of his friends, he’s also had many successes, and now he owes it to Veronica as well as the world to finish what he started.

With his friends, his family, and with the grace of Yggdrasil, he finishes what he started.

Everyone has their own personal business to take care of after that. El whispers a goodbye to each person, with the understanding that they will meet again in a week’s time to honor Veronica.

El goes home. 

Of course he is happy to see his mother and Gemma and his hometown. Even if he’s no longer sure he wants to stay there forever. Even though he’s sure he doesn’t want to slip back into the old El’s life forever, now. Even though Gemma kisses him and he just feels awkward about it.

He puts away his armor, but his mental to-do list keeps growing. He wants to figure out a way to start dressing differently, so that his mother and the people important to him will accept it. He thinks about opening a tailoring shop. He wants to find a place to dance. He still has to figure out how to talk to Erik.

Before he accomplishes any of this, it’s time to reunite with his friends to remember Veronica, again.

Then they discover a hope of restoring Veronica to life.

Every fairy tale he’s ever heard suggests that something like this will have some terrible, regrettable price. But even if he was comfortable speaking loud enough to be heard over the party’s exclamations, he can’t bear to be the one to dampen the hope across Serena’s face.

They go to the Tower of Lost Time.

The timekeeper says, “To lose time is to lose much.”

Of course, in the end, it’s hardly a choice he can forgo. He’s made so many mistakes, and the opportunity to undo them pulls at him irresistibly, as if he’s a fish on a hook.

He packs up everything he can imagine needing or wanting, save only for everyone who matters most to him.

He goes back.

He does it. He changes that terrible moment when the whole world changed for the worse. He saves Veronica.

Then he doesn’t know what to do, because the king is still possessed, and Hendrick is a stranger guarding the king, and he knows he can’t begin to explain everything that he knows. He’s had exactly zero success in his life at attempting persuasive public speaking. Even if he could make himself heard, he knows his story would sound mad.

So he goes along with the group to Heliodor. 

Mordegon reveals himself in the end, and they are able to defeat him. El feels relieved and also somehow guilty, like he didn’t fully earn this victory. Still, the results are hard to argue with.

The people of Cobblestone join them in more celebration. El thinks about how happy he was the first time he learned they were still alive.

Suddenly, he realizes the three happiest instants of his life -- discovering in in the Last Bastion that the Cobblestone villagers had survived, joining Sylvando’s parade, and seeing Erik recover his memories -- never really happened, and never will. Not anymore. He spends an hour feeling disconcerted.

But then Erdwin’s Lantern reappears. There’s no Mordegon to destroy it, now. People start panicking, and monsters everywhere become more powerful and more vicious than ever. El realizes that he’s not done after all. He’s going to have to travel the world yet again, fixing things he already fixed, and it might be harder, and he might fail.

He might fail.

In the past that he remembers, at least the world was saved in the end. There was fear and suffering and death across the world, but the world was still saved in the end.

Now there was no guarantee. He might have made things worse. He might be the reason the world was going to end after all. And no one knew but him.

The thought of trying to tell his friends puts a sharp lump in his throat, and he doesn’t think he could speak if he tried. Besides which, what would it help? How awful to speak of Veronica’s death to her face, or to say it to Serena. To tell any of his friends about bad things that never really happened to them, or good things that never really would.

He gets out the old bottle inside of him, stuffs everything inside, and shoves the cork back in.

He soon falls into the rhythm of traveling with his friends again. He lets everyone else do the talking all of the time, now. It’s always been easier that way, but now this also means he won’t let slip that he knows things he shouldn’t. Every time they revisit a town and resolve a variation of the same old problem he’d seen before, he feels a muted mix of irritation and satisfaction, like cleaning up dishes someone had forgotten to wash the night before.

Phnom Nonh’s problem is entirely new. But he recognizes the young men they rescue from the monster as the parade boys. When they decide to start a new parade, he decides to give Sylvando his old feathered costume. He could pass it off as a newly forged item if the other man asks.

Sylvando accepts it with delight. “It’s perfect! I’ve always wanted to wear something like this!” He takes a turn as a guest star in the parade. But he doesn’t invite El to dance with them. It’s just as well. El isn’t sure he feels like dancing right now, anyway.

After they aid Nautica, and the queen offers to turn him into a fish for the sake of mobility, he nods vigorously. As soon as the magic takes hold, he shoots off through the water, fleeing to take a moment apart from his friends and the sensation of secrets constantly rattling around in his chest.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” he broadcasts with his fins to the sea creatures in the bar, “But I’ve been carrying too many secrets, and I’m really sad about it, and I can’t bear to speak aloud when I’m in human form. I’m surrounded by my best friends in the world all day every day, but I’m still lonely.” Two turtles and another long-finned fish pat him on the back, and a mermaid behind the counter cries fresh tears, with which she immediately makes a couple of drinks. She pours one out for the room to enjoy, and gives him one to drink himself. It’s salty and just a little sweet and it makes him feel ever so slightly better.

“You sure took to that like, you know, like a fish takes to water,” Erik comments, later, when El’s a human again. He manages a tiny smile because it’s Erik, but then he shrugs and looks away.

They make progress on saving the world. El supposes he is building a reputation for being unflappable, especially after the second time that he meets Cetacea for the first time and merely smiles a little in reaction.

He needs his friends with him to make it through the encounter with Calasmos. Serena puts voice to the fears he can’t share, and Sylvando reassures them both with his cheerful bravado. Everyone’s determination soaks into him, and at last he feels like this is going to work. One last task, and he can prove that he made the right choice after all. The power of the Luminary clicks into place inside him, and then it’s shining out through the Sword of Light, and Calasmos cringes away. Diminishes somehow. It’s still hard work after that, but soon enough, it’s over.

Then it seems like no time at all before it’s time to part ways with everyone again. But this time, there’s no fixed plan to meet up again in a week. The lump appears in his throat again when he tries to say goodbye to Serena and Veronica. But he hasn’t spoken in weeks, now, and no one seems to expect him to. Serena suggests that everyone should write letters on a regular basis, in between visits, and he nods. Veronica and Serena each give him a hug, and he’s grateful, because he doesn’t know how to initiate a hug with these people any more than he knows how to tell them how much they mean to him.

Then Erik follows suit when it’s his turn to depart, and El almost can’t let him go. Erik makes to pull away, then holds still for a moment when El holds on. Erik lets out a soft little sigh, and gives him a gentle pat on the back that ends in maybe a small caress (an interpretation which El will debate in his head for weeks) before he pulls away again, and El lets him go.

“Okay, El. I gotta go meet up with Mia and get started on the world tour and treasure hunt I promised her. But we’ll make sure to stop by and see you. I’m guessing we’ll find you in Cobblestone, or at least someone who can tell us where to look?”

El nods, feeling a little better. He still wishes he could manage to speak. He’s starting to feel like he’s forgotten how.

Rab wants to visit Dundrasil again. El wants to tell his grandfather not to stay alone in the ruins with only memories and ghosts for company, at least not for very long. But again, he can’t find words. This time, he manages to initiate the hug.

Another hug from Jade, and an arm clasp with Hendrick. “Don’t be a stranger. We’d love it if you could make it up to the castle, say, once a week?” says Jade. El smiles and nods.

Then it’s only Sylvando remaining. As they walk away from the castle, El realizes he subconsciously arranged this on purpose.

“What a lot of sweet and sad little goodbyes, today. I’m really going to miss everyone. Maybe I’ll gather a traveling circus and have an excuse to see all our friends on a regular basis.” Sylvando fills the silence effortlessly.

El swallows hard, then reaches out and catches Sylvando’s sleeve. Sylvando halts and gives him a startled look, reads something in his face, and then softly says, “Oh, sweetheart. Come on, let’s sit down.” He leads El to a bench at the edge of the square, far enough from anyone else that they shouldn’t be overheard, even at Sylvando’s normal speaking volume. “All right, sweetie. Do you want to tell me about it? Take your time.”

El nods. Takes a deep breath. Takes another one. Rubs his hands over his face. One more breath. Finally manages a whisper.

“Sylv, I think I need help.” He shocks himself for a moment by forming words, the first time he’s actually said anything in weeks. Another breath, and in the face of Sylvando’s patient attention, suddenly the whisper comes a little easier. “I did everything I needed to do as the Luminary. That was part of me. That was somebody I needed to be. But now there’s nothing left to do but go home. And I don’t know how to start being the rest of me, especially there. Sylv, I want, I want to dance. I want to make beautiful things and wear beautiful things and tell Erik, tell Erik some things. And my voice is all wrong. I want to be able to tell people things without making them work so hard to listen, but my voice is all wrong. It’s too loud. When I really use it, I mean. I don’t know what to do.”

Sylvando regards him seriously. “All right, darling.” Rests a hand gently on his shoulder. “Those all sound like fine wishes. If that’s what you want, you should absolutely pursue them.” He lifts his hand and taps a finger over his lips. “I may have a couple of ideas. Let’s go down to a tavern I used to know, see if they’re still in business.”

As they walk through town, Sylvando confides, “You know, I don’t talk about this much, but when I was a boy, I thought I knew what I was supposed to become. A knight, like my father before me. But the first time I saw the circus, I fell in love, and my world changed.” El smiles, even though it hurts just a little bit to pretend that he’s never listened to Sylvando share this private memory before. At least now he won’t have to pretend in the future.

The tavern is open and crowded. The barkeep recognizes Sylvando. 

“So good to see you, darling! By chance, is there going to be a show tonight?” asks Sylvando.

“You’re in luck. Daria’s on in a few minutes.”

Daria is a singer, a tall woman in a red dress. She sings a variety of songs, some in a bold, almost brassy voice, and some soft and lilting. The audience loves it. El applauds with Sylvando, remembering the night in Octagonia that never happened and feeling wistful.

After the performance, Sylvando waits for the crowd to disperse a little before approaching the woman. “Daria, darling!”

“Oh, can it really be? Sylvando, how wonderful!”

“It’s marvelous to see you! A fabulous performance, as always. Listen, honey, are you doing anything right now?”

“For you, I’ll make time. What did you have in mind?”

“This is my dear friend, El. I was hoping you might be able to help him out a bit. Any chance we could go somewhere and talk?”

Daria gives El an appraising look. “I don’t see why not. Come on, we can go back to my place.”

They end up in her living room, drinking tea.

“All right, my dears. If you’re looking for my help, I suppose I have an idea of why, but I’ll let you say it.”

Sylvando nods. “El is having some problems with his voice. He’s barely spoken above a whisper for as long as I’ve known him. Which I thought was fine, as long as that was what made him comfortable, but today he told me that he feels his speaking voice is too loud.”

“Mm hmm.” Daria gives him another look. “And perhaps a little too deep?”

El nods hesitantly.

“Do you think you’d feel better about speaking if your voice was softer? Higher?”

El thinks it over. Gives another little nod.

“All right. Now don’t be startled, but…” Her voice suddenly drops into a lower register, heavy and rumbling. “I used to have a similar problem.”

El takes a minute to fully process, while Daria explains that she used to be Darren. That she found a mentor who taught her how to change the way her voice sounds, and ways to adjust her appearance.

El doesn’t think he wants to go so far as to make people believe he is a woman when they see him, but the softer voice sounds so nice. Maybe he can just become a beautiful person. Like Sylvando. So he agrees to come back for voice lessons.

Sylvando sticks around for a couple of days. Takes him shopping. El finally gets to wear a shirt with thick white ruffles at the cuffs and the neck. No one gives him any funny looks when he wears it through town, so he thinks maybe he can wear it home.

“Okay, honey, you’ve gotten a start on the voice, Daria will introduce you to that amateur dance group, and you’re wearing something beautiful. Which leaves making beautiful things, right?”

El nods. “I guess I’ve already been trying to do it a little bit,” he says, quietly but audibly. He can’t really manage the kind of voice he’s started working towards, but since Daria has coaxed him into sharing his current speaking voice in front of her and Sylvando, he doesn’t mind so much. As long as it’s just Sylvando, who knows this isn’t going to be the final version of him. “I never told anyone, but I’ve been picking colors and adding little extra decorations to everyone’s gear, pretty much the whole time I’ve used the forge.”

“Really? How wonderful! You’ve always done gorgeous work. So you’re going keep at it, then?”

El nods again. “I was thinking about opening a shop. After I get my voice right, maybe.”

“That sounds perfect.”

After a few more words of encouragement, Sylvando says, “Well, sweetheart, it sounds like you’ve got your wishes squared away. Anything else you want old Sylv’s help with? Otherwise I suppose I ought to ask you for a ride so I can go visit my papi and give him the good news.”

“Oh, of course, Sylv. I’m sorry I kept you so long.”

“Nonsense, darling. It was absolutely worth every moment. Next time I see you, we’ll go dancing!”

“Okay,” says El, smiling.

Sylvando is the only one to whom he says a real, audible goodbye. El gets gently scolded and corrected: “Until soon, darling!” He still gets a hug, even though he can talk.

Then, Cobblestone.

He pretends Sylvando is standing at his side when he greets his mother. Manages better than a whisper for her, though the sound still lands on quiet instead of elegant.

Gemma runs into his arms. He thinks about the other reunion that never happened, where she kissed him when he returned. He holds himself a little too stiffly because of this, thinking about Erik, and her gaze flickers across his face, lands on the lace at his throat, and then back up to meet his eyes again. She seems to sense that something is not as she expected, and she pulls away.

It takes time, but eventually this awkward distance recovers to friendship. El manages to tell her alone about his new hopes and dreams. Once she begins to understand, she starts to help, insisting that he practice his speech with her for hours each day, except for the twice a week he rides up to Heliodor to meet Daria and the dance group. Gemma makes him memorize stories and songs to recite back to her while they walk into the wilderness to gather supplies for the village.

She works to tease out every detail of his journey, and he almost gets the hang of only talking about the parts that have really happened. He slips up a couple of times, but he catches himself and passes off those bits of the story as just a bad dream he remembers. Most days, that’s how it feels now, anyway.

By the time Erik shows up, he’s finally happy with his voice.

“Erik!” he calls, spotting him walking into cobblestone while El approaches from behind on horseback. Erik spins around with a puzzled look, then does a double-take at the wide, flowing, embroidered cuffs of his pants and tunic.

“El?! I barely recognized you!”

“Erik, it’s so wonderful to see you!” El launches himself from his horse, rushes up to Erik, and stops at the last second, suddenly awkward.

Erik’s arms twitch, like he was expecting the hug that didn’t come, but he’s still staring. Looking El up and down. “You’ve changed, I think. You’re talking, for one.”

“Yes, and yes. It’s been a while. How’s Mia?”

“She’s fine. I left her in Heliodor to explore on her own for the day. What’s this you’re wearing? It’s, ah, nice.”

“Oh. I, I joined a dance group. In Heliodor. I made uniforms.”

“You made this? Wait, a dance group? Huh. I’d like to see that.” Erik’s tone is warm, with a hint of amusement.

“Really? We’re doing a show, day after tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there, then.” Erik gives him a slow smile. “Seems like you’re doing well. I’m glad.”

“How have you been? I missed you.” Practicing speaking for hours every day has put him in the habit of saying anything that crosses his mind, and this last slips out before he realizes it’s coming.

Erik holds still for a moment. “I missed you too.” Reaches out a hand to squeeze El’s shoulder. Then El decides he wants the hug more than he wants to hide his feelings, and throws his arms around his friend. Erik takes just a moment longer, then he’s hugging him back just as hard. “I missed you too.”

He invites Erik to stay the night. “You can take my bed. I’ll set up a space for myself.” El puts the extra blankets on the floor next to the bed. He wakes up to find Erik’s arm dangling off the side of the bed, fingertips touching El’s hair. He pretends to be asleep, pretends he’s not intensely aware of the contact, until he somehow does fall back asleep, and when he wakes up again, Erik is at the table, eating his mother’s cooking.

El goes behind the dressing screen to put on a tunic with flower embroidery all along the sleeves. He catches Erik staring at him many times throughout the day. He doesn’t mind people looking at him these days, because he finally feels content with his appearance. But he still feels a little nervous today.

El shows Erik around town. Keeps up a running commentary about random childhood memories. Introduces him to Gemma, who looks him up and down, says a long, drawn-out “Ohhh,” and winks at El. 

El takes him up to the Tor. They look out at the world they’ve saved together, and El takes a moment of silence to prepare.

“Hey, Erik. I’m going to open my tailoring shop next month. I know you have some treasure hunting left to do with Mia, but, I wanted to ask. After that, do you have plans? Because if you wanted to, you could maybe run a jewelry shop out of the same space? Or something like that? Whatever you want, really. I just thought since you’re good at judging the value of things and you might have some extra jewelry by then, it could make sense. If you wanted.” He runs out of words and waits.

Erik takes a moment to answer. “Okay, it’s not that I’m not intrigued by the suggestion. I have been trying to figure out a way to go straight, since Mia is watching everything I do now. But the thing is, I feel like there’s maybe another layer to that question, and I kinda want to know if that’s true before I answer.”

El swallows. Looks down. Touches the embroidery on his sleeve. Thinks, what’s the point of learning to talk again if I don’t say anything?

“Okay. The thing is, I missed you. A lot. And, uh. Listen, I’m going to say something, and depending on your response, I might pretend I didn’t say it and I’ll never speak of it again, because I really, really don’t want you to disappear and avoid me forever. No matter what, I want to stay friends. But…”

El can’t quite look at his friend’s face while he continues. “Erik, I like you. A lot. It’s fine if you don’t like me back like that. But as long as I’m talking, I might as well say what I’m thinking, right? I’d like it if we had a life together. If we got to see each other every day. And maybe, um, other things. But don’t think I’m telling you you have to do anything. If…”

Erik raises a hand, so El bites his lip to stop himself from speaking.

“El. I...” He slowly lowers his hand. “You know, I thought this visit was going to go a lot differently. I thought I’d probably find you with your Gemma, and she’d go putting words in your mouth, and I’d have to coax you away from town, maybe find a monster to fight. I always thought that was the time I understood you best, when we didn’t need words at all, just to watch each other’s movements. I thought if I was really patient, maybe I could get you to talk to me, just a little. Maybe we could talk about that last goodbye. But now you’re...you.” Erik looks him up and down with a small sweep of his hand for emphasis. “You’re almost like a whole different person. I’m sort of feeling like maybe I never knew you at all. So I don’t think I can give you a yes or no right now.”

El tries a small smile, but it falls right back off his face. “Okay. I understand.”

“Hey.” Erik reaches, and then Erik is holding his hand.

Erik is holding his hand.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to get to know this El. He seems pretty cool, so far. Probably a lot easier to get to know. What with the talking, and all. So, just give me some time, okay? Nothing’s off the table. Don’t, uh, don’t pretend you never said anything. I’m glad you did.”

That night, after he’s escorted Erik back to Heliodor and visited with Mia for a little while, El goes home. Gets out his feathers. Puts them on. Casts a spell. Zooms off to Octagonia and dances out his hope and his joy for the world to see.


End file.
